Castle & Beckett's Always
by KatieBrowne
Summary: They say that an unbelievable clarity is bestowed upon those fortunate enough to escape the clutches of death. For the first time in my life I don't think that those people are full of crap. "ALWAYS" part two
1. Castle's Always

**Title: Castle's Always**

**Disclaimer: Characters, plot and dialogue ain't mine but all of the pretty words that make them fun to read are :D**

Her name flashes on my phone's screen, something it has done thousands of times before, something I thought it would do a thousand times more.

But today is different. The beautiful picture I took of her many months ago when she was smiling and didn't think I had a camera out used to make my stomach flip, and I guess it still does, just in a completely different way.

Her call used to be a beacon, before I even answered and heard her singsong "Hey Castle", the flash of "Kate Beckett" on my home screen used to hold the promise of another day I'd get to sit next to her, listen to her, talk to her, make her laugh, sometimes if I was lucky she'd listen back.

The realization that that chapter of my life is closing hits like someone closed a book on me, my heart inside screaming through the slowly closing pages. Fitting I'd use that simile.

No, this call is different. The wave of emotion crushes harder than it should, I should be able to walk away, I guess I'm just in too deep.

I should know by now that I'll never be able to fully vanquish this woman from my heart. Maybe with time, I don't know, I don't really want to look that far into the unknown just yet. Not while just seeing her face on my phone sends waves of pain through my veins like hundreds of arrows, straight from my heart to every end of my being.

I wish answering the phone would resolve this feeling, but she made her choice. Whatever she has to say, excuse she'll make, code she'll speak in will not replace the fact that she doesn't want me. Doesn't realize what life she could have.

So I hit ignore.

Damn it hurts.

Hurts more than the initial shock of seeing her call.

For a split second I am filled with dread that she could be calling needing me, in some kind of danger that I can swoop in like the white knights I write about and save her – from an assassin or worse, herself – but that idea is forced out by the anger I still feel at the facts that she is just too stubborn to see.

I drop the phone but the pain doesn't recede like it should. The ache in my chest throbs with every beat of my swollen heart. I guess this is a feeling I will have to get used to.

A quick knock at the door startles me from my spiral of self-pity.

I pretend, for whose benefit I don't know, not to hope that somehow she has come to her senses, but I don't even fool myself. I know that I should be angry and not want her to come back – hah back, back to what? But unfortunately I love this frustrating woman, and that means no matter how much pain I'm in I will always hope to see her smiling on the other side of the door.

I'm on auto-pilot by the time I get to the door, trying to look less melancholy than I feel, and I open the door with the beginnings of a smile that I don't feel forming on my face when I see her.

Breathless.

Even in my cloud of heartbreak, the sight of her still knocks the wind from my chest.

Composure is what I need. She can't win, not like there'd ever be any kind of competition, but if I have any chance of surviving after she leaves I cannot crawl back every time she needs me to.

Composure quickly fades to anger. I don't want to be angry with her. I want to be in love with her.

But I can't deal with the hurt she causes so I can't even begin to attempt to stop the words as they roll off my tongue, so much colder than I ever wanted to speak to her,

"Beckett, what do you want?"

I barely recognize myself but dammit this is her fault.

I need to keep this anger, let it anchor me so that I don't get caught up in the vulnerability she wears, a color I never imagined she'd knowingly let me see. I can't look into her eyes and see the sorrow that she is sending in waves.

I must be resolute.

I have to -

"You."

Not even a little what I was expecting.

I don't have time to fully process the extent of what she's just said, the answer to the question that I had been slowly, secretly asking for years, before she pushes into the apartment.

I move back, out of reflex I guess, but I don't get far because her arms are reaching out – for what?

Me?

Apparently, because she grabs on with all of her strength and pulls me into her. Something I have literally dreamed about for years, but I can't enjoy it like I want to because my head is spinning so fast that I actually feel like I might fall.

She kisses me.

Oh Lord.

I've spent the past year, longer if I'm being honest with myself, playing out how this would feel, the first time she kissed me, and never once was my mind clouded by the hurt I still feel.

I wish her touch could eliminate this feeling. Wish the feeling of having her press her body into mine as she captures my lips could undo the anger that has only been subdued, but it doesn't.

It comes pretty god dammed close though.

Her lips on mine ignite a fire that almost burns through the arrows of pain in my blood that still linger.

She pulls back, just a fraction, but far enough that my brain is able to work. Her hands on my face, forehead flat against mine, mouth so close that I can feel her shaky breath mix with mine. I didn't think it was possible to be so close but feel so far. My heart screams and I come back but I am still angry. Not very much, but I have to use the anger to fuel myself into thinking this through instead of just pulling her closer like I know that I want inside.

She starts apologizing – her voice catches. Beckett is a strong, composed woman. She doesn't let her voice hitch.

I feel the tears on her face before I see them and know that something must be wrong.

This isn't Beckett.

She doesn't show up at my house looking like she swam an ocean to get here, tell me she wants me, and apologize.

Something happened.

I need to see her eyes. She needs to see mine. See the anger and utter heartbreak I've felt over her.

She tries to kiss me again but I've made up my mind and need to know so I push her back, a little more forcefully than I probably should have, but she goes willingly.

She is now far enough away that I can fully take her in, really for the first time tonight, and to say I'm surprised would be an understatement.

She looks like all that is keeping her upright is my tight hold of her wrists. I don't think I've ever seen her so fragile.

She looks at me with a tear stained face and it's all I can do not to pull her back to me, but I need to know.

I ask what happened, afraid of whatever answer the question will bring.

For someone who spends their life with words, I have absolutely zero to describe the look that settles itself on her face.

I would almost call it a smile if I didn't know her as well as I do. Years of studying this woman have taught me to know when she is truly happy, something I have only seen a handful of times. No this is a sad smile.

"He got away-"

Oh, is that what this is? I refuse to be some consolation device, won't allow myself to be used to heal her hurt-

"and I didn't care."

Oh.

"I almost died, and all I could think about with you."

I can't allow myself to think about how she almost died. Just hearing the words makes my stomach plunge toward my feet. Who was I kidding, like I could ever be done with her. Like I ever stood a chance in distancing myself from her.

This is all so new.

Kate Beckett was just completely open about her feelings. To me, of me, about me, I don't know what to do.

All she could think about was me.

What does this mean?

"I just want you"

My mind whirls a thousand miles an hour but my face must look absolutely stoic.

She wants me?

I want to jump and scream and cry tears of happiness but as fast as my mind is moving at this part, my heart is afraid to believe it.

What if she is wrong? What if she does care? What if she only wants me now?

I honestly don't think I could survive being without her once I actually had been.

Today was already one of my worst and that was just with walking away before I'd held her.

But I guess I have already gone too far haven't I?

I've got her in my arms now, pouring her heart out to me like I've always dreamt I would. I made it through the walls she had protected her heart behind.

If I leave now, it would crush us both.

She sways forward, open mouth brushing mine in the single-handed most heart-breakingly beautiful plea I could ever hope to experience- or write about- but the single drop of anger and disbelief that still courses through my veins prohibits me from taking her the way I know we both want.

She leans back just a few inches, not in retreat but in silent apology and with a stark and sudden awareness I realize my error in holding onto the hurt.

This is ridiculous.

I am ridiculous.

Here I have the woman I've loved with a strength I'd only ever written about, in my arms begging to be loved, the way she always has been but never been able to see, and I am keeping her away?

I have a millisecond flashback to the day prior when I confessed my love, to her conscious body, and she turned me away. But I had it wrong. She wasn't denying her love for me, just too clouded by anger to see.

Here she is, the woman I love, finally freed from her demons, asking for forgiveness.

How could I even pretend to have to think about it.

When I see the clear truth in her eyes, I know that she wants this forever as much as I do.

She touches my lips with her impossibly gentle fingers and the spell is broken.

This is real, and this is love, and I have not a single doubt in my mind that this is exactly what we both want, no - need.

Years of desperate yearning have all been building to this moment and I know it won't disappoint.

I am done living without this.

Done being without her.

I wanted resolute, well I've sure as hell got it now.

Lightning cracks through the window and pulls me from my daze and makes me wonder why I'm not kissing her, showing her how much I love and forgive her.

As I can't come up with an excuse, I lunge for her and see the pure relief flash across her face as we connect.

The electricity of her touch, the feeling of her mouth on mine creates a hunger deep within me, with a strength I never knew possible and unconsciously I force her back into the door, which in turn closes it. This ends up being a very, very good thing.

I get impossibly close and she welcomes me, clinging with the force of desperation.

All I can think is Kate.

The feel of her.

The sight of her.

The taste of her.

The clichés wiz through my mind as I try to come up with the perfect way to describe how absolutely perfect everything about this is.

Soon her mouth isn't enough and I leave it to explore. My lips burn with every touch of every inch of skin I can find. Every tantalizing spot that I'd fantasized about claiming is finally mine.

I make my way lower, at first without any conscious thought, but as I realize where I am headed I need to take pause.

I kiss the area right about where I know the scar is.

In that moment everything slows down.

The hunger abates, the lust fizzles and I'm left with a steady stream of love. I slowly unbutton the top of her shirt and it's funny how it isn't passion driving me to take off her shirt. Obviously I want too, but that's not why I'm doing this.

As I stare into the small circle I am almost overcome; too many emotions to even describe.

This little the mark is the reason she almost died, and at the same time, this little mark means that she is alive. It is my proof that she is alive.

She must be on the same page because she grabs my hand and for a fraction of a second I wonder if she might try to take my attention away from the mark, but she doesn't.

She knows exactly how important this little pucker of skin is, to me, to her, to us.

She takes my hand in hers and presses them into the scar.

More is said in that action than in any book I could write.

Together we hold on. To the scar that almost took her away from me, but more importantly, to the heart that lies beneath it; the heart that beats strong and brave for me.

I am overcome by the need to kiss her again, but this feeling isn't the same as it was before. It is no longer a race, we aren't fighting through lust for each other.

No this time the seriousness of the situation settles and I can actually feel the shift to love.

We still cling to each other, but the reality of everything in front of us - everything we have left behind- is evident and I realize that I don't have to rush. I don't even want to try.

I want to live in this moment for as long as I can.

I don't know where we'll be tomorrow or the day after, but as I gently kiss her top lip I feel the beginnings of a smile on her face. I move my head back slowly, only an inch, but it's all I need. I open my eyes and am looking right into hers, already open and filled with everything I know we can be.

I know this woman inside and out, I know when her smiles are real and when she wants you to think they are.

This glow that emanates from her tonight may be the most beautiful, most real smile I have ever seen on her face.

The look of pure happiness on her faces reaffirms what I knew all along, but had just been hiding from; there is absolutely no other person in the world that I want.

No other person who could ever make me even slightly as happy as she does.

And I know, for the first time, that she feels the same way.

.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.

_A/N: This wasn't supposed to be nearly this long :P But once you get going…_

_I was only going to make this a one-shot but I have some ideas about how this could continue (possibly the same scene from Kate's POV or a joint continuation)._

_Whaddaya think?_


	2. Beckett's Always

I wish I could say that resigning had been an impulse decision.

I wish it was something that I could play off as having done in the heat of the moment.

Unfortunately, I knew exactly what I was doing.

From the moment I saw gates on the roof of the building I knew what was in my future; and it sure as hell wasn't a suspension.

They say that an unbelievable clarity is bestowed upon those fortunate to escape the clutches of death.

For the first time in my life I don't think that those people are full of shit.

As a cop, I face down death on a daily basis. It's why they pay me the big bucks, hah.

Until today, I can't honestly say that I have ever walked away from death feeling anything close to clear.

It's funny, every time I have stared death in the face over the past 4 years, I have had Castle at my side. There was something about having him there with me that almost made it ok. No, I never welcomed death and we always fought, but every time that I was absolutely sure that we wouldn't get out, that this would be the time that we finally met out ends, deep down I was able to accept it. Accept that if I had to go, at least I'd have him by my side to walk down that path with.

But hanging up there on that roof, never having felt more alone, I was finally given the clarity for the first time in my life.

Not like this.

This is not how I end.

Not here, not alone and not without Castle.

I have so much more left to my story, our story, the one I want – no – need us to write.

If you asked me, I would bet my life savings on the fact that I heard Castle scream my name. At the time I thought that he had come to save me, but as I look back I realize that yes, he was saving me, but not from the ledge. No that was Ryan. Castle was saving me from myself. As hard as I was fighting, in my last seconds on that roof, I almost gave up. Hearing the voice that I really thought was Castle's was the metaphorical push I needed to keep myself hanging on.

When I was pulled up and saw that it was Ryan who had come to rescue me I realized how wrong I had been.

Perhaps a few minutes too late - to be cliché - my life flashed before my eyes and I was hit with the stark realization that I was severely unhappy with what I saw.

The ride back to the precinct had been quiet, leaving me to silent contemplation. I knew exactly what was coming: Gates screaming at and suspending me, having to leave the precinct, going back to my empty apartment, my homemade murder board that had taken over my window and my life.

No.

No more.

This is ridiculous, this is not what I want my life to be.

A few months ago I had said that I wanted to be more; more than who I am, and look at me now. It's one thing to say the words, another to follow through, and I had done the exact opposite. I had tail-spun and fallen right back into the person I was 10 years ago.

If I wanted to be more, be whole, I was going to have to let go of everything I had let myself become and start over.

So I left.

If I wanted a new beginning, I would first need an ending. I'm sure Castle would say something much more eloquent but that is all I could come up with.

Castle.

I get to the bottom of the precinct steps and it occurs to me that I don't want a new beginning if it's not with him.

I mean that's what I've been doing in therapy all year right? Trying to become the person I need to be, the person he needs me to be so that we can have… whatever we will have.

I want to run to him right now but I can't. My head is full of questions.

Well not really questions. Just question

Am I ready?

Ready to leave behind everything I have come to know.

I dropped my bag of work stuff at my apartment but couldn't even bring myself to go in. I opened the door and tossed my bag in and locked back up and left.

This is not where I belong. Not tonight.

I know it's going to rain soon. I've lived in this city for 33 years, and I have come to know when the wind is bringing rain, and it is going to come down hard tonight. I know I should grab a coat or umbrella but I don't.

No.

Let it rain.

Let it fucking pour.

I need to walk.

I need to think.

Well, I think that I need to think.

I've already made up my mind haven't I?

That's what the whole quitting my job thing was about wasn't it?

It's already a torrential downpour by the time I get to the destination I didn't even know that I had been heading towards.

The park.

Funny how it seems like ages ago that I sat here with Castle, and yet I can still picture him sitting on the swing next to me with absolute precision.

Both of us a little broken, both of us testing the water, hoping we hadn't lost each other.

I loved him back.

Even then.

Even speaking in code, praying that he understood that I needed time to heal before we could be us, I loved him back.

Took a little while for me to be able to admit it to myself, but I did. I was just so scared.

I have known for a while what being with Castle would mean; what kind of forever would be shrouded in the act of letting myself love him.

This is why I wanted to wait to be healed first, but really, I am never going to be perfect. I will always come with baggage, will always just be a little broken, but that is what love is, isn't it?

Accepting and loving someone in spite of everything that should keep you apart?

And he loves me.

He loved me when I was shattered and he loves me now.

Well, he loved me yesterday.

Yesterday when I was so enveloped in this case, this case that I had let define myself.

Yesterday when I had listened as he poured his soul to me and I was too clouded in anger to hear.

Yesterday when he left; when I let him leave.

How could I have been so stupid? So driven by this case that I could let him slip right through my fingers.

I knew what he meant when he said he was done.

I knew and I still let him leave.

I think that somewhere deep inside I thought that he would come back he had before. It wasn't until I was standing on top of a building with the cops who had just saved my life that I realized that I had really done it this time. I had succeeded in pushing him away, and he wasn't coming back.

I wouldn't come back either, not after what I did.

This is up to me. I have to be the one to fix this.

The time for waiting has passed, for stalling and avoiding is long gone.

I want him and he needs to know.

So yeah;

I am ready.

I don't think I have ever been more ready in my life.

How I manage to hail a cab in this monsoon is a mystery to me, and it isn't until I climb in the back and squish down that I realize how completely soaked to the bone I am. How much I don't care is actually kind of funny and I allow myself a chuckle as the car speeds towards his house.

I should plan something to say.

Should prepare some kind of speech.

But all I can think of is his face and the look of hurt and longing that was plastered to it the last time I saw him.

I don't even get very long to think before the car stops and I get out at his front door.

I nod to the doorman who is sweetly holding an umbrella out. As if it would make a difference at this point.

As I stand in the lobby I realize how absurd it is, me showing up at his front door at – I have absolutely no idea what time it is. It could be really late. He could be in bed, or worse, in bed but not alone.

Somehow my phone hasn't been ruined in my pocket, hmm these are some good pockets, and I press my first speed dial (man who was I trying to fool into believing that I wasn't in love with him?) and pray for an answer.

It rings twice; only twice, then his voicemail.

Wow that hits like a sucker punch to my stomach.

Of course he wouldn't want to talk to me, probably thinks I'm calling with some weak apology to get him to come back to the case. The case that I chose over him.

Well I didn't really think this would be that easy anyway.

I'm already here, I have to at least see if he is even home.

Normally I'd just take the stairs but, well, I am very very wet and that would just take longer.

The elevator ride is short and I barely have time before I am standing at his front door, the door in which I have stood in front of many times, never before feeling so empty.

Again, I should probably think this through, plan something to say, but on its own accord my hand reaches up and knocks sharply.

I don't have time to wonder if he is home because I hear footsteps approaching the door and instantly my heartbeat speeds up rapidly because I know that he is here, and that this is my last chance to back out.

What surprises me is the unbelievable conviction that I feel in knowing that I do not want to leave, I don't want to be anywhere but here.

The beginnings of a smile appears on his face as he swings open the door but is quickly replaced with something much more heartbreaking.

I am sure he is trying for angry but I know him far too well. Know when he is trying to mask the way he really feels, and right now he is hurting.

He asks curtly what I am doing here and with lightning clarity I know exactly what to say. It's nothing I could have planned, nothing I could have practiced over and over on the ride here or in the hall, its simple.

"You"

And it is the absolute truth.

I don't think he was expecting that, and I am overcome with the need to show him, prove to him that this isn't just another attempt to get him to come back.

He needs to know how much I need him.

So I push into his apartment and grab him and pull him into me. How many times in the past year have I wanted to do exactly this? Grab him and kiss him until the rest of the world is forgotten? Many.

We kiss and it's amazing but it's still filled with sadness, I have things I need to say, things he needs to hear before he can forgive. I know this won't fix everything, not alone.

I pull back an inch but I keep my hand firm on his shoulder. Now that I've got his contact I can't lose it. I need him to anchor me to reality.

Even after all I have put him through he will still be my solid ground. I don't know what I did to deserve him but I will not lose him. I am so sorry for everything and he needs to know.

I'm so sorry.

At some point, when I am not consciously certain, I start saying these words aloud.

Because I am just so sorry and I need him to believe me when I say it. I try to kiss him again because I need the contact but before I can he pulls me back. I don't blame him so I go willingly.

Thank god he is still holding on because I can feel the fight draining from my body, and I honestly can't promise that I'd be able to stay on my feet were he to let go.

It isn't until I am far enough away from his face that I can feel heat on my cheeks.

Before I had played it off as warmth from his breath mixing with my own on my face, a feeling that warmed my soul in a way I never realized I had craved.

But now in the light, on my own I realize that I am crying.

And I don't care.

This is my new beginning.

No more hiding; from him or from myself.

His "What happened" breaks me from my thoughts and even in those two words I realize the importance of my next words in healing us so I chose them wisely.

Truth is what this new me is about so I have to be honest.

"He got away,"

Which he did.

"and I didn't care."

Which I didn't. And still don't.

He could slip away in the night and take every lead from the case away with him, and I wouldn't give a single damn.

The thought of that brings a smile to my face, but I'm not finished talking.

"I almost died, and all I could think about was you."

There is no point in hiding anything at this point.

Dangling on the edge of life itself as it were and he was the only thing on my mind.

I only wanted him.

I will only ever want him.

Hell, I need to say this out loud.

So I do.

And as the words tumble from my mouth I realize that I can't stand back any more. I need to be closer, need to show him how much I mean the words that I have been holding back. I reach forward with an open mouth but as my lips brush his it occurs to me that perhaps he is still wary, still doesn't believe.

So I pull back just a fraction and stare into his eyes.

We communicate best without words, always have.

My hand comes to brush his lips, why I am not really sure, I just know that I need any connection I can get.

His face remains unchanging but I think he is finally forgiving me and as the lightning cracks outside he seems to break from his thoughts and in that moment I know that we are going to be ok.

Forgiveness, desire, love, want are all written across his face as he closes the distance between us, an action we have both been awaiting for far too long.

Our lips meet and the feeling is electric.

There is no other way to describe it.

I feel as though this right here, us, is the most real thing that has ever happened to me. As if I have been woken up; as if my entire life up until now has just been one long dream and for the first time I am seeing reality.

Why in God's name did we wait so long?

Everything about this feels so right that I just want to hold on and never let go.

Which is why when he leaves my mouth to explore my neck, oh God – uhm what? – oh yeah, when he leaves I wrap my arms around him and hold him tighter to me than even seems possible and even then I still don't feel close enough.

He is mine and I never want to let go.

For probably the first time in my life, I am actually weak in the knees. Wow I didn't honestly think that it was possible but for a fraction of a second, I don't know how he does it, but he somehow wipes all conscious thought from my brain and I feel myself fall.

In more ways than one.

And of course, as he always has and will, he catches me.

In more ways than one.

He begins to trail down my chest and if it were anyone else I might have the inclination to want to hide what I know lies beneath the thin shirt I wear. But it's him so I don't.

I think he realizes the shift in me and slows down.

When he places the most gentle of kisses to my chest my heart swells and I am overcome with calm. I want him to see.

The look that takes over his face when he finally see's my bullet scar is the saddest mixture I have ever seen. It's a mixture of pain and sorrow, but also hope and thankfulness.

I know without a single doubt that he is the only person I ever want to see this mark, kiss it, touch it again so I grab is hand in both of mine and I press them into my chest.

I need him to feel my heart, feel how strong it beats for him.

Because it's for him.

All for him, and this right here? Us together, is the only reason it will ever beat again.

I think this has shifted the mood.

We are no longer spiraling in a haze of lust, no this is has transformed into something much more real.

As our world, this place that we have created in which only we live, slows down everything becomes much more gentle.

The touches, the kisses, and I find myself smiling with hopeless abandon.

I can't help myself, and I wouldn't even dare to try.

I feel like my soul has been freed and as he opens his eyes to look into mine I know that he knows.

As I take his hand in mine I realize that I have found it, in him; my new beginning.

It will be the last beginning that I ever have.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

.'.'.'.'.'.

_A/N: Well there you have it! I want to thank everyone who reviewed and favourited, it's really what inspired me to keep going._

_I'm still really enjoying playing with these two in this style so I may keep going or write a companion to this story of their future. Stay tuned and hope you liked it :)_

_-Kate_


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